


Promises, Promises

by Musyc



Category: Black Books
Genre: Bickering, Gen, Yuletide 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: "Bernard survives on alcohol and hatred. I'm made of wine and bad relationships. What are you? Fizzy drinks and desperate attempts to be loved?" She snorted smoke.
"Disappointment and misery," Manny said.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anemptymargin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



"Bernard?"

Manny stuck his head through the curtain and scanned the bookshop. A short woman in a long black coat was stuck to the floor by Possibly Animals, though she hadn't yet seemed to notice the pink slime clinging to her ankle. Other than the woman, the slime, and the bats dangling from Latin, Vulgar Latin, and Bloody Damned Vulgar Latin, the shop was unoccupied.

Manny retreated into the kitchen and shoved a medium mollusc back into its cupboard. "Stay in the dark," he muttered with a pat to the cupboard door. "Got to get big and strong if you want to join the others."

He ducked under the wasp-spiders over the staircase door (the previous spring's breeding season was an adventure he wouldn't ever forget) and clomped up the stairs, with an extra-heavy clomp to the third riser, just in case of. In case of what had never been made clear to him, but Manny had learned when not to ask.

"Bernard?" he called again, one hand clapped over his eyes as he stuck his head around the bathroom door. The fixtures gurgled Bach - Prelude and Fugue in F minor, Manny thought. Quite good, really, though the bathtub was a touch flat.

He took a deep breath and scuffed toward the dark cavern at the end of the hall. "Bernard?" he called. "Bern--"

The black shadows beside the bed undulated. Manny shivered and clutched his beard. "Bernard," he said. "There you are. Get up now. Fran will be here any minute."

"Not going." A broom handle emerged from the shadow, one sad banana impaled on the end, and wriggled beneath the bed. "The thing needs feeding."

"So do you," Manny said. "You haven't eaten anything but cheese slices for the past two days. Fran's promised to bring treats, actual tasty treats. Food, Bernard. Maybe even something that requires chewing."

"Fran. Food? Hah." The broom handle retreated from under the bed, the end of it ragged and splintered. "Last time she brought food, it was raw. Went down like, like. _Oysters_."

"It was oysters, Bernard."

"I'd rather eat oyster cards. At least then there'd be a bit of flavor." The banana peel oozed out to quiver near Manny's foot. Bernard tugged a blanket off his head and joined Manny in eying the peel warily. The thing belched. "See, it agrees with me."

A small orange light flared in the shadows as Bernard lit a cigarette. Smoke drifted up for a second, then disappeared beneath the bed with a wet slurping noise.

Manny shuffled out of reach. "You promised," he said. "You promised Fran. Well, I promised. But you were there and you grunted when I asked you, so you promised. She'll be disappointed if you don't."

"Fran's always disappointed. That's what Katzenjammer means in Burmese. Disappointment and misery. She's only filling her role in life."

Manny tugged at his beard, glanced up at the ceiling, recoiled and looked away quickly, then sighed. "All right. I didn't want to have to do this. But you've left me no choice."

He dug deep into his trouser pocket. He pulled out two plums, one kazoo, a handful of peanuts, and a Subbuteo man, all liberally dusted with snuff. "Whoops," he said, shoving it all back. "Party pocket. Other side."

This time, he pulled out a scrap of paper and a biro. "I, Manny Bianco," he said, writing each word down, "do hereby promise to return one-third of my salary to Bernard Black for the next four--"

"Teen."

"Fourteen years." He speared the paper on the biro and held it out.

Bernard snatched the paper. Using one hand to prop his eyelids open, he examined Manny's scribbles. "Fine. I'll come to your stupid dinner," he said. He wrapped the paper around his cigarette, crumpled both into a ball, and flung the sizzling result under the bed. "But I won't enjoy it."

"Good for you." Manny edged backwards. "By the way, did I get any post?"

"How should I know? You're just Occupant."

Bickering the whole way, Manny dragged Bernard downstairs and into the shop just in time to see Fran slamming a copy of _Tarantulas and You_ onto a large spider. She hummed to herself as she flipped the front cover of the book open and scribbled on the first page. "There you go," she said, tossing the book over her shoulder. "Worth at least another quid now. Hand-made illustrated cover."

Manny poured Bernard into the desk chair. "Dinner?" he asked hopefully. "Look, Bernard's here. You're here. I'm here. All that's missing is the food. You were supposed to bring it, Fran?"

"Ah. Yes, well." Fran hoisted two shopping bags onto the desk. They clinked and rattled. "Grape gin, chocolate whiskey, cinnamon tequila," she said, dragging bottles out of one bag and lining them up in front of Bernard. "Oh, and this."

Manny stared at the jar. One forlorn olive floated in the brine. He slowly sagged into a chair. "Fran, you promised there would be food."

"No, I said I would bring tasty treats." She lit a cigarette and tapped the second bag. "And direct from Granny Russia? Cupcake, cookie dough, waffle, ginger snap, bubble gum, donut, and bacon."

"Food," Bernard snarled.

Fran grinned around her cigarette. "Vodka."

Bernard was already a quarter through the chocolate whiskey and half through a fresh pack of cigarettes. His eyes were beginning to spark.

Manny slumped. "I was told there'd be food," he mumbled into his beard.

"Give it up, Manny," Fran said. She shoved a stack of books off the table and perched on the corner. "Bernard survives on alcohol and hatred. I'm made of wine and bad relationships. What are you? Fizzy drinks and desperate attempts to be loved?" She snorted smoke.

"Disappointment and misery," Manny said.

"Katzenjammer!" Bernard sat up. He pointed at Manny with an empty gin bottle. "You did get post. 's over there. Under miscellaneous other." He swilled the olive out of the jar.

Manny brightened. He dug into the mountain of books and wrestled the badger for a package wrapped in sticky brown paper. "From Mooma and Moopa! Oh, oh! I knew it. Mooma's famous rum cake."

Fran and Bernard snapped around like snakes. Manny clutched the package to his chest. "Mine!"

"Give it here," Fran said, "and I'll ... I'll make Bernard let you sleep indoors."

Manny whimpered. "Even in winter? I had Snowman's Nipple until March last year."

Fran nodded. She wrapped Bernard's hair around her fist and bobbed his head in a nod. "Promise."

Manny tried on a smile. "Well, then. If you promise."


End file.
